At Thon Hotel
by gkmoberg1
Summary: Miss Marple travels to northern Norway and encounters the children of J.A. Lindqvist's 'Let the Right One In'


**At Thon Hotel Harstad**

A Miss Marple Mystery

 _This is a work of fan fiction using several characters from the works of Agatha Christie, published by Collins Crime Club, William Collins and Sons, and several other publishing houses, and characters from 'Låt den rätte komma in' by John A. Lindqvist, published by Ordfront in 2004. Miss Jane Marple, Raymond West and his spouse Joan are characters created by Agatha Christie and owned by her estate, presently held by Agatha Christie Limited. 'At Bertram's Hotel' is a novel written by Agatha Christie as part her 'A Miss Marple Mystery' stories. Meanwhile, Eli and Oskar are characters created and owned by J.A. Lindqvist.  
I do not claim any ownership over any of these characters, titles, or the any aspect of the works where these characters appear. The story I tell here about all these characters is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed by me to be part of Agatha Christie's or J.A. Lindqvist's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of any official story line. I thank Agatha Christie and J.A Lindqvist for their wonderful stories._

~oOo~

A centerpiece of the Harstad harbourfront, Thon Hotel rises five and six floors along the harbour side that overlooks Sjøgata, and then city's beautiful harbour - the Harstadsjøen - and finally Vågs Fjord. The structure is modern yet constrained in a way that allows it to fit into the historic Norwegian city downtown with little impact.

A respectable, well-known hotel, it is replete with modern conveniences and services. Popular for business gatherings, the Thon is equally a draw for higher paying travelers and tourists. The hotel's one hundred forty rooms are modern and efficient without being showy. It is a statement matching the tone set throughout the hotel: an unpressured environment that provides for the modern traveler. From the relaxed yet well-prepared menu at the hotel's adjacent Egon restaurant to the stunning view from its decks overlooking the fjord to simply the establishment's central location, the hotel succeeds.

It was several months prior to the start of this story when the Thon Hotel became host to one Mr Raymond West of southeastern England. Raymond, a British author well-known in his home country with spreading attention coming from across Europe, had come to Norway's farther north region as part of his investigations towards a novel. He came for a lengthy stay but became ill after a month. Admitted to hospital he was laid up for some time. When word of his plight arrived back home, the news was taken with much concern. Joan, his wife, arranged to come up to Harstad. But she did not come alone. Raymond's aunt, Miss Jane Marple of St. Mary Mead, insisted on accompanying. Raymond and his aunt had always been close. It was too alarming to her that Raymond should face his illness and recovery so far from family. After some disagreement given the distances involved and Miss Marple's very advanced age, Joan relinquished and sent the car over to St. Mary Mead to fetch Miss Marple. And thus the two women, accompanied by Miss Marple's personal assistant Florence, made the journey from England up to Harstad, Norway.

It was on Sunday, the thirtieth of October, when Miss Marple and her companions arrived at Thon Hotel. The day had, up that point, been gray and wet. The travelers and their bags came into the lobby and were there met by the hotel receptionist and staff.

"Velkommen til Thon Hotel! Welcome to the Thon," greeted the receptionist as Joan approached the front desk. As she checked in the group to their three rooms, porters used carts to roll the bags into an elevator and a manager came out and escorted the women into a second.

Once in the elevator the manager turned to the three. "Greetings," she said with a smile and delightful enthusiasm, "You will enjoy our city!" She was young, in her mid-twenties, fine stature and dark black hair. "I am Miss Birgit Hagen. My parents are linked to the management company of this hotel and I am often here. Looks like we're all on the same floor. Please ladies, be sure to come find me if you need anything."

"Thank you," Joan said, "it is so nice to have arrived. I am certain we will have questions."

"Please do expect us to take you up on that offer," said Miss Marple.

Getting off the elevator, the group came face to face with a young man dressed in work clothes. He carried a metal toolbox and had a set of flexible rubber tubes curled over his shoulder. He blushed slightly when he saw them and smiled as he stood aside.

"Ahh, this is Jørgen!" said Birgit happily. "Jørgen Andreassen is our chief repairman. He is self employed and we rely on his services all the time for most minor repairs. And there always seems to be something which needs to be tuned."

"Greetings," he said in a somewhat unpracticed English.

He and the women exchanged places. As he descended in the elevator, Miss Hagen led Miss Marple and her little group down the hall of the fourth floor.

Arriving at Joan's room there was a pleasant surprise: Raymond had been released from hospital and was waiting for them. That Birgit had met the women and had led them up was part of an arrangement she and Raymond had made. Jane and Miss Marple were overjoyed to see him. He was pale, much too thin, and he promptly became the centre of a great fuss made by the two. Birgit and Florence stood back and watched.

After a while, as the bags arrived and were sorted into the respective rooms - all adjacent along the fourth floor - Miss Marple made excuses and retired to her new place. There she stayed while Joan and Raymond caught up. It had been a long trip and all were tired. Finding Raymond at the hotel and looking better than they had feared put a nice moment in their day.

That evening, Miss Marple, Joan and Florence met in one of the hotel's ground floor business conference rooms. What had drawn them there was the sound of singing, wonderful singing. A traveling choral group from Texas, the San Antonio Choral Singers, was practicing. The sound of their voices echoed throughout the first floor lobby area and attracted everyone's attention. Their concert would be given over the next several evenings nearby across Harstad and this was a final rehearsal.

The adults at the front of the room were soon replaced by a younger group. Many of the choral group members had brought their children along, and this little group -as an activity to keep them busy- had been formed into a youth choir. This was simply for fun and the children were engaged in learning to sing together the popular American set of Holiday and Christmas Carols. The choir's leader was a young mother named Mrs Carpenter. She had a knack for keeping the children's attention and leading them through each piece.

Miss Marple and her companions sat at the back and listened. Joan decided Mrs. Carpenter had to be a primary school teacher for such was her care interacting with the children. Of the songs practiced, 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' was the one the children liked best. As there were twelve of the little ones, each child got a moment of being the central character as the song progressed. Their Texan accents stood out distinctly against the British accents common of Norwegian speakers of English and of course Miss Marple's group.

The rehearsal concluded with a cherubic take on 'Silent Night', which caused the parents quite a giggle since the last thing their children could manage was being quiet.

~oOo~

Monday turned out to not be as gray and rainy. Yet Miss Marple did not make an appearance until tea time. She'd taken brunch in her room and spent some time doing letters with Florence.

"Hello," said Birgit as she approached the ladies. They were seated at a table in the Egon enjoying the late afternoon. Raymond had remained in his room, resting. "Terrific to see you. Better rested, I hope? And I have somebody who I want you to meet."

"Feeling well rested, thank you Miss Hagen," said Joan.

Mrs. Carpenter came bustling over at this point. "May I intrude? I am looking for helpers. If you have a moment, may I explain?"

"Please do," said Joan.

"The children in our group are set to have some fun. It's Halloween today! Perhaps not a big event here in Norway, but back home it is. What I would like to do is give them something to do. They have their costumes. If I supply you each with some candies would you be willing to hand them out if they come about to your rooms this evening? I'm sure they will be well behaved."

"This sounds like fun!" said Miss Marple.

It was thus arranged that the children would parade through the hotel in the early evening. Miss Hagen offered that she had a collection of small blue bells, meant as holiday decorations for the hotel that she could hand out to guests who wanted to be part of the activity. The children would be told to knock only at doors with a blue bell attached to the handle. Agreed on the plan, Mrs Carpenter went off to fetch the candies and look for more volunteers.

"Ladies, before anyone else comes along I want you to meet somebody," said Birgit. "It's our performer, a young musician named Ask. Plays guitar very nicely and he's come in to set up."

With this she waved over Ask, who'd been setting up a microphone across the room. Miss Marple had been watching him and was delighted to be able to meet the man who was about to be their entertainment. A moment ago, whilst Mrs Carpenter had been talking about her plans, Miss Marple had been watching as Jørgen had approached the guitarist. Jørgen was keen to share something, had offered a piece of paper and had been talking to this man, Ask, for a bit. Jørgen, if anything, seemed nervous and kept looking hesitantly across the room. Yet the only ones present were themselves - the four women at the table.

"Ask, this is Miss Joan Marple, Joan West and Florence - Miss Marple's assistant," said Birgit when Ask arrived.

"Please to meet you," said Ask. "Welcome to our end of the world."

"Thank you indeed," said Miss Marple.

"Ask's a bit of our local hero."

"Oh please don't," said Ask shyly and with a smile.

"Okay, we'll let your fame remain a secret."

"Thank you," he said. "Ladies, it is good to meet you. Stay and I hope you enjoy."

And they did. He played marvelously as the dinner guests started to filter in.

~oOo~

The choral group's trick-or-treat children politely made their way through the hotel's floors in the early evening. In groups of two or three they made their way from door to door, politely knocking only at those who had put the small blue bell on their door handle.

Miss Marple enjoyed greeting each little visitor at the door to her room. Between visitors, she left her door open so that she could hear them coming. There were a number of cute and a number of scary costumes - scary from a child's point of view. For each Miss Marple handed out one of the small candies. The 'Trick or Treat' requests from each child, stated in their American accents, stood out and and reminded her of how far she herself was from home. For these children, it would be even further though, she marveled, especially knowing the children likely didn't truly understand the distances involved given their young ages.

First came two butterflies. Both were young girls and were led by one of the hotel staff. Then came zombie and a lion. A spider man and a ballerina were next. Then came Esmeralda and Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. This was followed by a vampire in a flowing purple robe, a cowboy, a rockstar, two puppy dogs and finally the tin man from Wizard of Oz.

Mrs. Carpenter came by last, knocking on each door, collecting the door hangers, and thanking the hotel guests for having played along. Joan came out of her room and she plus Mrs. Carpenter and Miss Marple stood for a bit in the hallway. The two found out from Mrs. Carpenter that this was the third trip for the San Antonio Choral Singers. Montreal and Edinburgh had been the prior adventures. And this was the second time the singers had brought along their children. The three women agreed that gaining insight to the vastness of the world and its differences was invaluable; the singing group was hoping that this would make a difference in their children's lives.

~oOo~

The next morning, Tuesday, Joan and Raymond enjoyed a late breakfast in the Egon. Raymond had been given a copy of that day's The Times from London and Sunday's The Herald from Scotland. The lead articles concentrated on Brexit policy, negotiations and opinions, plus articles about the battle being waged in the Middle East over the city of Mosul and an endless number entries on the upcoming American election. He soon tired of it and pushed it all away, preferring to let the morning progress in the absence of all such difficulties. The omelet and toast were far more enjoyable.

Near noon, Joan arrived at Miss Marple's door. The elderly woman had not been seen at breakfast and Joan figured she had taken breakfast again in her room. She knocked and listened.

"Oh Good Morning!" said Miss Marple opening the door. "Or should I say Good Afternoon? Why I've not been paying attention. Please - oh excuse me - yes, please Joan, come in."

"Good to see you Jane," said Joan, "yes, I'll come in."

Joan had not spent much time in Miss Marple's room, she having been occupied with Raymond and his improving health. The room was much like theirs, only a bit lonelier, Joan thought, given there was only one occupant. She sat at the room's little table area in front of the window and saw Jane had been reading the same set of newspapers. Miss Marple busied herself for a moment and then sat down next to Joan. Together they took in the view across the fjord.

"Such news," said Miss Marple with a sigh, referring to the news. "Seems the world has so many quarrels. Meanwhile we sit here, in solitude -almost- and take in this scene."

"Yes, I quite agree. Rather like we're reading of events from a different planet."

"Right. As usual with traveling, which I hardly do anymore -my goodness this trip is my first in how many years?- I feel like I'm in a "no man's land", caught between not knowing as much as I should about the local interests and being so far from my own."

"Let me see what I can tell you that is local. I did overhear some things whilst Raymond had his head in the newspapers at breakfast." Miss Marple looked intrigued. Joan continued. "It's All Saint's Day. I was looking to know if it was of any significance but so far I've not been able to tell. That's the trouble of being within the confines of a hotel; we're in a bubble even though we're in the midst of this Norwegian city. Oh my, sorry that's not much help, is it? I did hear, though, that the woman who was the jazz singer last night downstairs made a complaint to the police."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Said she was frightened outside after midnight by some children. They startled her and then ran off. She was outside on the street, directly outside the door, not on Sjøgata below us but on the street outside the inland side of the hotel, and claimed they arrived out of nowhere, almost like they had dropped from the sky, sneered at her and then took off."

"What a strange story. Was she injured?"

"She was shook up but not hurt."

"Well, I shall keep it in mind, then, to stay indoors after dark."

"Sounds wise, but this is such a peaceful place. I'm sure it's out of the ordinary."

There came at this moment noises of a disturbance in the hallway. The two women got up and make their way to the door. Opening it they found Raymond before them as well as Florence - Miss Marple's personal assistant who'd remained very quiet in their time in Harstad - looking down the hall. Three men -two bell porters and a desk manager- were getting a guest's room open using a metal weight and thus breaking the door's locks and chain.

"I'm sorry madams and gentleman," said the manager to the group, "this is most unusual. Our Birgit Hogan has not been responding to our attempts to reach her and she's failed to attend several meetings this morning."

Then the men were through the door and into the room. The manager too entered but shortly returned, his face white and fearful. "We must contact the police," he was saying into his iPhone, "We need an ambulance. Right away!"

The porters raced off leaving the manager in the hall. "Oh this is terrible!" he said as the group came towards him. "You'll have to remain out here. We'll have this figured out."

"It is bad?" asked Joan.

"Oh, I'm afraid so. Very bad."

"My goodness," said Miss Marple equally alarmed.

Florence looked frightened as well. Yet it was at this moment that a second trouble began. Raymond took an awkward step and collapsed. He first fell against Florence and then the wall. Acting quickly, the manager saved Raymond from striking the floor too hard, yet Raymond ended up on the carpeted floor before much else could be done.

"He's been ill," said Joan, "we need to get him back to our room."

"Right then," said the manager and with a impressive show of strength yet care, he lifted Raymond to a standing position. He then, with help from Florence and Joan, walked Raymond back to his room.

Miss Marple, shocked by this, stood there agape. Recovering, she decided it best she guard the room until the police and whomever else arrived.

She stepped into Birgit's room. It was a guest room on the opposite side the hall from hers. Its view, thus, looked out over the city rather than the harbour. Otherwise it was much the same: two beds, a table at the window with a pair of chairs. Miss Marple found the poor woman, Birgit, laying across the shower floor in the bathroom. She was dressed and dry, but quite dead. Miss Marple was careful not to touch or disturb anything. The woman's wrists were cut in several nasty ways, with considerable bruising, and a knife was lying beside her. Thin rivulets of blood ran across the shower base and into the drain. Jane shivered, looked about once again, carefully at the body and the knife, and backed away. Out in the room she ventured to the window. Below her, really almost directly below her, police cars were arriving. Touching the window accidently she discovered it moved freely, yet it had been closed when she came up to it. For a moment she considered it could have been used as an exit, but really it was a drop of three floors to the street, so it was not a possibility.

She then made her way back to the hallway. The manager was just returning from Raymond's room and was relieved to see Jane standing guard. "Thank you Madam," he said. At that point his iPhone rang and let him know the police and medics were on their way up.

"I am most sorry about all this," said Miss Marple.

"It's not good."

"Yes, very bad indeed. I'll leave it to you. Please, though, stop by if later you need a moment," she said and patted the man on his arm.

"Very kind of you Madam. Very kind."

And with that Miss Marple made her way back to her room. Behind her, medics and police arrived and swarmed into Birgit's room. Miss Marple left her door open, sat at her table and considered what she had observed. Florence, looking very worried and nervous, came over from her room and fidgeted. Miss Marple did her best to console her and sent her several times to check on Raymond and Joan. And so did the afternoon pass - Jane and Joan sending the upset Florence between them, keeping her busy whilst down the hallway noises of the aftermath drifted along the hall to them.

Near four o'clock, several of the officers came down the hall, knocking at each door and interviewing the guests. Hearing them approach Florence, Miss Marple, Joan and Raymond all made an appearance and so met the lead inspector. Raymond, back on his feet, looked better yet worse at the same time. Miss Marple kept a close eye on him as the inspector spoke.

"Inspector Norgard, Harstad. Madams. Gentleman. I presume you know what's happened two doors down from yours. I have questions."

"Please let us help," said Raymond.

They then proceeded to relate how none of them had known anything was amiss until the hotel porters and manager started to break in Miss Hagen's door. No, nobody had heard anything overnight. The previous evening they had not heard from Miss Hagen and had not been aware of when she came or returned. Other than the chorus' tricker-or-treat children and Mrs. Carpenter coming through, all had been quiet.

When the Inspector had taken in their answers, he released them and wished them a good evening. The group moved into Raymond and Joan's room, allowing Raymond to relax and for Miss Marple to sit down.

"Aunt Jane, surely you have an idea. Do tell," said Raymond.

Miss Maple sat and thought before speaking. "The Inspector has a difficult case, doesn't he? The classic locked door mystery."

"Do you think it's murder," asked Joan with a tremble.

"Unfortunately yes. Yes, I do."

"Oh!" said Florence and blanched.

"But how?" said Raymond. His voice conveyed his disbelief in his Aunt Jane's claim.

"I don't want to say just now. But murder it was."

The three looked silently at Miss Marple. How could a woman have been murdered in a locked room, where the only other escape was out a window that led to a three floor drop to the street below? Such they were all thinking while Miss Marple gazed out the window - dusk descending into night - and worried.

~oOo~

Rumours swirled the next morning through to noontime. Jørgen was said by some to be a suspect because of his known ability to work with locks. Most considered that to be impossible. The hotel staff, the guests, were all quieter than normal. Miss Hagen had been a cherished member of the hotel's environment; her loss was deeply felt by all.

The front lobby was a stream of activity for most of the day. In addition to the daily guest arrivals and departures there was now the investigation going on. Later in the day things seemed to calm down. The traffic has subsided but the shock remained high.

The Inspector was interrupted as he arrived at the front desk. Jørgen, looking pale, was brought along by the accompanying officer.

"I should say Inspector," said a voice, stated clearly yet with the thin vibrato of an elderly woman, "that I'm afraid you've got the wrong man."

Inspector Norgard turned to the lobby window seats and its occupants. Three comfortable high back seats surrounded a plain wood oval table. A tea service with three settings and a small collection of sandwiches lay at the center. Raymond West, looking stronger, was in the chair facing the front desk and Joan sat to his left. The third chair was almost facing away from the Inspector's view but he had no doubt of its occupant - the one who had spoken.

"You have a statement to make?" he asked.

"My word, Aunt Jane," said Raymond, "are you sure? You haven't even turned to look."

"Really, it doesn't matter," Miss Marple replied. "No matter who he has brought, the fellow is innocent."

They all looked to Miss Marple but she merely clasped her hands overtop each other as if seeking a bit of warmth. Then she dropped them free of each other and sighed, "I do hope I'm not about to make colossal fool of myself. I am not sure how to explain it all."

"But it's Jørgen," continue Raymond.

"Oh dear. such a nice man," she responded. "This is a hard time for him."

Inspector Norgard interrupted, "Surely you are not going to tell us now this was not a murder?"

"Oh no," she replied, "it was most certainly murder. Vile. A primal murder if you look at it right. I've no doubt. But I'm afraid you are not going to apprehend anyone here who had the slightest to do with it."

"Jørgen's our man," countered the Inspector. "He was here, his alibi is thin, and it seems he possesses the means for having carried it out."

"But no motive," Miss Marple replied. "In fact the opposite. The last he would have done is harm the sweet girl. For you see, Jørgen was quite in love with the young Miss Hagen."

"Do you have something to back that up?" asked the Inspector.

"We should question Master Ask when he arrives - which should be shortly. You know the young man who plays so nicely here in the lounge each evening? What he can tell us will bear things out."

"Surely you don't think…" said Joan.

"No, dear," said Miss Marple while reaching over and patting Joan's hand, "Ask is above suspicion. But what he knows - that's the key."

"Aunt Jane," ventured Raymond, "you didn't by chance lead us down here for tea, did you, with the intention of intercepting the good Inspector and young Ask?"

Miss Marple returned to wringing her hands and looked away, nervously. To Joan it was clear the elderly woman was excited and worried, yet oddly unsure of herself.

"Right," said the Inspector. "Well, before this musician arrives I want to get Jørgen out of sight. Let's try a little questioning with the two of them separated and see if they have stories that line up."

At the Inspector's signal, the officer steered Jørgen into one of the meeting rooms that can be found along the hallway beyond the reception Norgard went back himself to check on the holding spot.

"My, Jane, how did you know this?" asked Joan. "I don't recall any of this coming up in our talk yesterday with Ask."

"Yes, yes, just as you say. But to answer your question, it's not what he said and rather how he acted that I picked up on." With this Miss Marple relaxed into the cushioned back seat.

"You look so worried," said Raymond.

"Oh dear me, I am." replied Miss Marple. "You see, it's the oddest conclusion. I can scarce believe it. And I'm disinclined to lay it out lest you think me a daft old woman."

Joan and Raymond looked at each other and then back at Miss Marple. Joan wanted to say something but was cut off by the arrival of Ask. The young man strode in from the briskly cold street and straight up the reception desk. He wore a dark coat, a guitar case swinging from on shoulder, and his full head of curly hair cascading overtop the coat and guitar strap.

"Ask, Ask!" said Raymond, startling the young man. He turned to the group.

"Please wait a moment here," Raymond continued. "There's been some trouble…"

At that moment Inspector Norgard reappeared and immediately spotted the newly arrived musician.

"We have not yet met," he said, approaching them rapidly.

"Ask," said the young man.

"Inspector Norgard. Look, we've had an incident. A young woman has been found dead. Miss Marple here says you might hold information about this."

Ask looked shocked at all this and then concerned. "Dead? But who?"

"It's Miss Birgit Hagen," said the Inspector. "Found murdered in her room."

"Murdered? Oh no," said Ask, turning white.

"So you know something of this?"

"No, not of a murder or even a death. Oh no, not Miss Hagen." Ask looked gobsmacked.

"What then?"

"Well, yesterday I was talking with Jørgen. He come over to me as I was setting up to play here in the Egon. Wanted me to work up a poem he'd written into a tune. He even had an idea for the melody. It was for, well, you see it was something he had put together for Miss Hagen. You know, as a bit of a nice surprise."

"So, Jørgen knows Miss Hagen. Might you be saying he's got a fancy for her?" Inspector Norgard gave Miss Marple a glance. She, as with the other two, continued to listen.

"Inspector, I can be a bit naive at times, but it was clear to me Jørgen does indeed carry a fancy for her. Seen him talking to her several times; they seem to get along. I hadn't thought anything about it until he came over yesterday."

Ask dug into his pocket and pulled out two folded sheets of paper. "Here, this is what he gave me to work with. It's a scrap of poetry that I jiggled about some to put it with the melody he suggested. Not bad, really."

The inspector took up the sheets and gave them a perusal. "A real declaration of love," he pronounced after a minute.

"Where is Jørgen now?" asked Ask. "How is he?"

"I have him detained under suspicion at the moment."

"But how? What? Surely not," said Ask. "You've got to understand!"

"I think I do now, thanks to you," the Inspector replied. "And this," he added, waving the sheets.

"His plan," said Ask hurriedly, "was to have me play this once she arrived. We'd hoped she come in as usual to the Egon in the early evening. Oh, this is terrible."

"Thank you, Ask," said Miss Marple, finally speaking. "As you see Inspector Norgard, young Jørgen is hardly the man you're after."

"Well, I'll check on this by seeing how Jørgen reacts to what Ask has related. You - ," and here, with a wave of his hand, he indicated the entire group, " - wait whilst I go chat with him."

Some minutes later the Inspector returned. "I'm releasing Jørgen. His story lines up with what you've provided."

Ask, Miss Marple and group were relieved. "I hope you don't mind my having spoken up," said Miss Marple.

"Glad you did," said the Inspector. "As for me, I need to continue the investigation."

~oOo~

Three weeks later the group concluded their return from Harstad. Raymond, fully recovered, was in good spirits and very glad to have had the support of Joan and Miss Marple. Arriving in St. Mary Meade, they made their way to Miss Marple's residence. It was delightful to be home in England once again.

"Before we go," said Joan to Miss Marple, "you must explain, finally, to us what's been on your mind this entire time regarding the death of Miss Hagen. I want to have the whole thing."

"Yes, I suppose I should. Such a sad and strange affair. The young woman had so much to look forward to in life."

Florence brought them all tea. The group arranged themselves in Miss Marple's sitting room and enjoyed the afternoon's gentle rain.

"So, who -since you discarded Jørgen as a suspect- do you think killed Birgit?" asked Raymond.

"I'm afraid you're not going to believe me."

"You'll explain yourself, don't worry," said Joan.

"I'm afraid," said Miss Marple, "that it was the children."

"The children?" they cried. "Surely not. Do you mean the sweet Texas choir children?"

"I do mean the children. But not the Texas ones."

"But … there were no other children. Please explain!" said Joan.

"Let's go over this together. Can you recall the trick-or-treaters? We need to start there. Who did we see?"

Together they made their way through the list. The ballerina, the tin man, the lion, the spider man and so on, ending with the two butterfly girls.

"If you add all of them up, how many do you get?" asked Miss Maple.

The group went through the list several times, counting on fingers until they had it right.

"Fourteen," they concluded.

"And how many children were in the group from Texas?" queried Miss Marple.

"I don't think we were ever told," said Raymond.

"In a way we were. Unfortunately for that, Raymond, you were not there. It was in the conference room where Joan, Florence and I saw them rehearse."

"It was twelve then!" exclaimed Florence. "Right you are. They sang 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' and there was one child for each day of the song, with none left over."

"So, two extra children were in the trick-or-treat parade." observed Raymond.

"But how are we ever to figure it out from there?" asked Joan. "Half of them were wearing costume masks."

"This had me perplexed as well. I had to sit and think it through for some time. Yet there are clues and after a while I found myself concluding on a particular set."

"And from this you concluded it was a murder?" asked Raymond.

"Oh my, heavens no. That there was a murder was entirely based on examining the body."

"When did you do that?" asked Joan.

"Whilst you were occupied moving Raymond to his room. Right after the hotel staff made the sad discovery. I stood guard over Miss Hagen's room and used the occasion to examine the room and what had transpired."

"Tell us what you found!"

"Poor Miss Hagen was on the floor of the unit's shower. Her wrists had been but and there was a knife. This suggests a suicide, I know, but three things were clear. First, Miss Birgit was far from suicidal in our moments with her. If anything she was full of vigor. Second, the wounds on her wrists were not consistent with the type of cuts the knife would have made. I imagined whilst looking at her that she'd been attacked by a pair of staple removers. Yes, there was a knife cut. But the damage really was from repeated marks as if a large stapler had been in use."

"You said _three_ things," said Joan.

"Oh yes. The third was the blood. You see it all went down the drain. Or well that's what should have happened. That's perhaps what we were meant to think. Yes, yes, that's why she was there. We were to meant to be led to that. Oh dear, sorry. The blood- yet there was little trace of it. Such injuries should have caused a great deal of blood to have been present on the base of the shower. However fact was, there was but the smallest of streams flowing from each wound to the drain. Simply put, she did not cut her wrists and bleed to death."

"Good heavens!" cried Raymond. "You're saying this was deliberate and … the blood went elsewhere?"

"Precisely."

"And this had something to do with the children, the two children you think you've identified?"

"I do."

With this Raymond threw up his hands and got up from his chair. "I can't believe this!"

"Well, I've found no other explanation."

"Go on then," said Raymond in exasperation, "let's hear the rest of this."

"Miss Hagen had the unfortunate attribute of wanting to help. Remember, she asked us to come see her if we had any questions. She was always very inviting; she was a trusting and happy young woman. I'm afraid the two children I'm thinking of took advantage of this. She let them in, you see. And then they did her in. Really terrible."

"And then? The locked door!" said Joan.

"Yes, right. They escaped, but not that way."

"The window," said Raymond.

"That's three floors down!" said Florence.

"Yet that explains what the jazz singer said," related Joan, "I overheard the next morning how a jazz singer was leaving the hotel near midnight and had two children startle her. Interestingly she said the thought they'd dropped 'out of the sky'. I remember this because I told Jane about it."

"When I was in Miss Hagen's room," said Miss Marple, "I found the window was not secured. It was closed but it was unlocked. It simply is the only way they could have left. And let me add, when I was at that window, I found it was directly over the entrance to the hotel from that side. Right above where the jazz singer would have come out near midnight."

"So you're saying the children popped out a fourth floor window, startled a woman when they landed on the street below, and then what, ran off? Preposterous."

"Yes it is. I agree. And that is why I did not continue my logic with the Inspector."

"But Jane," said Joan, "it adds up in a queer way but makes no sense. What would the motive have been? You always look at things that way. Maybe you have some suspect and maybe you have an opportunity. But what is the motive Jane?"

"The blood. I assure you, it was the blood."

They looked at her dumbfounded.

"The blood." they repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, you think me an old fool. But it was Halloween, remember. A terrible trick-or-treat it was carried out. And, well, dear me, I think I'm going to let you add the rest of it up."

~oOo~ fin ~oOo~


End file.
